Raindrops
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: A summer rain shower looks like it will prevent Rhiannon from giving her dad Bae and grandpa Mr. Gold a happy Father's Day, but Rumple tells her a story about her papa as a child and shows her that raindrops can be healing and soothing as well as put a damper on things. A Papafire bonding fic! The 4th story in the "Chocolate" verse. Sequel to "Looking For My Bae."


**Raindrops**

A Father's Day fic set in the "Chocolate verse"

Sequel to "Looking For My Bae"

 _~this story is dedicated to my dad and also my late mom, who passed away on this day, and who loved the sound of raindrops falling on the roof.~_

 _Golden Spinner Antiques & Curiosities_

 _Manhattan, NY_

 _Father's Day June 21_ _st_ _, 2015:_

Rhiannon Gold pressed her face to the glass of her grandfather's shop window and sighed mournfully as she watched the raindrops spatter onto the sidewalk. This was _not_ how she had planned to spend Father's Day with her dad and grandpa. She had wanted to take a walk in Central Park, and feed the ducks and other waterfowl on the lake, buy lunch from a Sabrett cart and doughnuts from the bakery nearby, and enjoy the sunny June weather. She had saved up her allowance for months so she could actually pay for lunch for all of them, which included the special triple fudge doughnuts at Celebrations, made especially for Father's Day by Sebastian and Chris, who owned the bakery. She had special ordered them with an initial baked into them-a B for Baelfire, and an R for Rumple, who went by the name Rob here in Manhattan, unless you were family or a close friend and used his "nickname". Seb and Chris had given her the "special discount" for special friends, and so the box had cost her half of what any other customer paid. She had picked up the box of doughnuts earlier, there were half a dozen of them, because she knew she would love them too and so would Belle, who was currently attending classes to get her degree in library science at the college across town.

"Why the long sigh, dearie?" queried her grandpa, coming out into the main showroom of the store to rearrange a display of beautifully woven plaid blankets imported from Scotland, handmade by the folk back in the village where Rhee had been born nine years ago.

His granddaughter turned to look at him, her small face crinkling with disappointment, her flyaway light brown hair curling about her slender shoulders. "Because I wanted to take you guys on a walk in the park when Dad gets back from the store and buy you lunch, and now it's raining!" She glared out at the silvery raindrops falling on the sidewalk, forcing the pedestrians on the sidewalk to run quickly to shelter, or open umbrellas, or huddle together under awnings till the storm passed.

Rumple came and put an arm around his nine-year-old granddaughter comfortingly. He was dressed in his navy Armani suit with a red and navy swirl tie, but even though he was dressed fancily and Rhee had on her usual jeans and her favorite lime green shirt with a swan on it and her pink Keds, anyone looking at them, even at a glance could tell they were related, as Rhee resembled Rumple in miniature.

"It's just rain, Rhee. It'll pass."

His granddaughter still looked peeved. "We won't be able to have lunch in the park in the rain, Grandpa. Or feed the ducks."

"Now don't sulk, dearie. Of course we can, since these storms are just summer showers. And ducks live on the water, so a little fall of rain won't scare them none," Rumple soothed. His finger went and gently drew his frowning granddaughter's mouth up into a rather quirky smile. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we go into my office and I'll tell you a story while we wait for the rain to pass?" He gestured and the sign on his door flipped to CLOSED FOR LUNCH and he locked it.

Rhee gazed up at him, she thought he was quite good looking for an older man, even if he did have to walk with a cane, then she nodded. "All right. What kind of story are you gonna tell?"

"Why don't you come and find out?" he invited, and then they walked back to his office, which was a rather large room with his antique roll top, his red leather executive chair, which Bae teased him about and called his throne, because it was similar to the one the President used, computer, bookshelf and a painting Bae had done of him and Belle. There was a Tiffany lamp in a corner by the window, and a soft Louis VIX brocade couch. Across the couch was a handwoven mohair throw in a heather purple, gray, and soft green plaid—it had been made by Grandmother Lir and sent over from Scotland for Rumple and Belle for a wedding gift. But Rumple often enjoyed wrapping himself in it and relaxing on the sofa after dealing with his sometimes eccentric and annoying customers.

Rumple gestured for Rhee to sit on the couch, and went to his small fridge and pulled out two cans of iced coffee, which he had developed a taste for, and grabbed a package of Walkers shortbreads from his desk drawer. Then he floated the comfort food over to the Queen Anne endtable by the sofa and limped over to join his granddaughter on it.

He pulled the throw across their knees and Rhee snuggled cozily next to him and drank her coffee and ate a shortbread, letting her grandpa do the same, while listening to the sound of the rain pattering upon the windows and roof. Oddly enough, now that she was underneath the heather plaid, warm and nestled on the sofa, she actually enjoyed the sound of the rain, finding it soothing.

She waited patiently for her grandfather to begin his tale.

Rumple sipped his coffee, marshalling his thoughts, and listening to the rain echo in his ears, allowing it to take him back to long long ago, before he had been an antique dealer and sorcerer, before he had been cursed to be the Dark One, when he was just a lame spinner whose only family was a dark-haired little boy who liked to draw.

Finally he spoke, his voice low and mellifluous, still with the faint accent of his homeland, which most people thought was Scotland, but was actually a world far removed from this one.

"You know, Rhee, that when your papa was a lad, around five, I think, he used to like when it rained, because it made puddles he could splash around in like a little duckling," Rumple related. "And no matter how I tried, I couldn't keep the little imp from jumping into every puddle that was in front of the cottage door and getting his pants and shoes soaking wet!"

He looked up at the ceiling as he spoke, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Rhee giggled. "Dad really did that?"

"Oh yes! After every rain shower we had for months . . .and in the Enchanted Forest during the summer, there were plenty of rain showers. It got so I used to see the storm clouds gathering and I would think not again! Because I knew that Bae would make a beeline for the cottage door and be outside jumping in the puddles before I could blink once the rain had stopped . . ."

 _The Enchanted Forest_

 _Many many years ago:_

 _The startling sound of raindrops on the thatch of the spinner's small cottage was a pleasant accompaniment to the hissing and popping of the fire in the fireplace and the whirring of the wheel as Rumple spun more thread so he could sell it at the market on Wednesday. The wheel hummed soothingly as the spinner's skillful hands fed more twists of wool into the wheel, his foot pumping a steady rhythm on the treadle. The dyed wool, this batch was a pretty soft lilac color, spun round and round, gliding over the spokes of the wheel and flowing with a hypnotic grace onto the bobbin. As the thread gathered, Rumple kept the tension steady, and watched the wheel's rotation with long familiarity. He had been spinning since he was around six, which was the age his papa had abandoned him at, and he was now almost thirty, and had long since mastered all the tricks of his trade._

 _On the braided hearth rug, Bae was playing with a little wooden horse, a cornhusk family—a father, mother, and two children, and a dog, cat, goose, and a dragon._

 _When he heard the rain on the roof, he looked up and grinned. "Papa, it's raining!"_

" _Aye, lad, I know," Rumple replied, spinning. "A nice summer rain to make the flowers grow."_

 _He hoped the rain would help the small cuttings of marigolds, violets, and peonies he had planted around the cottage to shoot up and flower._

 _He darted a fond glance at his son, who was pretending to have the dragon steal away the girl and the goose, who laid golden eggs, and keep them prisoner in his deep dark lair. Once the rain had stopped, he had no doubt his intrepid boy would be out the door, splashing in the silvery puddles._

 _He was unsure exactly why Bae loved playing in the puddles, but he had resigned himself to the fact that the boy seemed to have a fascination with them, and would always come back wet from a stint of jumping after the rain. He knew Milah would have scolded and punished the boy for getting his clothes wet, but he had learned in the months that his wife had abandoned him that scoldings and even time facing a corner of the cottage or a skipped dessert had little effect on his irrepressible child when it came to puddle jumping._

 _And since they had so little to amuse his son, Rumple decided that there was little harm in Bae playing in the puddles, so long as he was dried off soon after coming inside, so he didn't catch a chill._

 _The spinner shook his head in amused exasperation when, as soon as the pitter patter of raindrops had ceased, Bae rose to his feet and tiptoed towards the cottage door. Rumple pretended to be busy and not see where the boy was going, continuing to spin._

 _Bae's little hand reached for the latch on the door, when Rumple called out, "Bae, where are you goin', lad?"_

" _Playing, Papa!" the imp called, and yanked open the door._

 _He raced out into the yard, finding to his delight that there was a large puddle a few feet from the door, glistening silver, blue, and gold where the sunlight struck it. It beckoned to him irresistibly, and Bae gave a whoop that would have done a raider proud and jumped squarely into the middle of it._

 _Water splashed all over, in a fine spray, splattering the grinning giggling child, soaking his light brown woolen breeches, his socks, and little leather shoes. Droplets clung to his mop of curly dark hair and landed on his brown tunic. Bae liked how everything was cool and smelled fresh after the rain had come, and he had been feeling stuffy inside the cottage by the fire. Jumping into the puddle made him cool off and he loved how the sun made rainbows dance across the puddle and through the air._

 _Everything was slightly misty and surreal as the sun came out from behind the clouds and moisture glinted upon the grass, trees, and even the small flowering plants Rumple had planted about the little cottage._

 _Bae peered at the water beneath his shoes and counted the ripples and then pretended he was a swan swimming in a pond. He loved swans, even though they were rarely seen in this part of the Enchanted Forest, because they were majestic birds, proud and beautiful with their snowy plumage and graceful necks. He even liked how they called to one another, with a loud trumpeting sound, different from any other bird. He also liked the stories his papa told him about the legends of the swanmays—maidens who could become swans—and the Swan Princess Odette, the Seven Swans, and the Ugly Duckling about the duck who became a swan._

 _He jumped and splashed in the water, pretending he was gliding like a swan, and then he gazed up into the sky, wishing he could fly like a bird._

 _All too soon, Rumple limped outside and called, "Bae! Laddie, you're gonna catch yer death of a cold! Look at you, all wet!"_

" _No, m'not , Papa! I'm a swan an' swans don't mind bein' wet!" his son giggled, his brown eyes dancing._

 _Rumple stomped over to him, pretending to be angry. "Now listen here, scamp!" he began, and then Bae splashed him._

" _Now you're a swan too, Papa!" he yodeled and then shrieked in delight as Rumple used his crutch to send a cascade of water at him._

 _Laughing, father and son played in the puddles of water, silvery drops clinging to them, but neither of them minded._

 _Finally, Rumple picked up his son and said, "Let's get inside, swan scamp! We both need to get dried off and have something hot to drink."_

" _Can we have cocoa, Papa?" shrilled Bae as they went back into the cabin._

" _Sure we can, lad. Soon as we get into dry clothes," his papa agreed, wishing that he could provide more for his son, but he was a poor spinner and could barely afford the cottage they rented and clothes and food. But he loved his small son with all that he had, for Bae was his reason for living and he would do anything for his boy._

 _Anything._

 _Bae squirmed and wriggled as Rumple used a towel to dry his hair and the rest of him off in front of the fire. "Papa, that tickles!"_

" _Imp!" his father laughed, and then helped his son into dry clothes before getting himself into dry things as well._

 _Then they snuggled in a blanket on Rumple's chair in front of the fire, sipping hot cocoa and Bae asked Rumple to tell him of the tale of the swanmays again._

 _Rumple obliged, telling him how the swanmays were beautiful human maidens who could turn into swans, made so by the magic of the god of love, and their purity and goodness could enchant the most stalwart heart and bring love and redemption to any who sought it. Legend had it that the god himself took to wife a swanmay and the children of their union were forever blessed and lucky in love._

 _As Rumple deftly wove his tale, the rain began again, and he spoke with the comforting sound of raindrops on the thatch, until the soothing noise sent both drifting into slumber._

 _While they slept the gentle summer shower became a summer torrent and rain now lashed the cottage in sheets and thunder boomed like the clap of doom across the forest, and lighting struck in jagged spires. Within moments a fierce storm had spawned._

 _The terrific noise and the wailing of the wind like a lost soul woke Bae from his sleep. Frightened, the child clutched Rumple tight and sobbed, "Papa, I'm scared! I see lightning! It's gonna hit the house and we'll all burn up!"_

 _That had happened to someone in the next village over, and people had been discussing it and talking about the tragedy for weeks down at the market._

" _Huh?" Rumple stirred, and then he opened his eyes sleepily and yawned. "Bae, it's all right, dearie," he mumbled. "We're safe. It's just a summer storm."_

" _But Papa! The lightning!" Bae whimpered, burying his face in Rumple's shoulder._

" _The lightning is far away," Rumple told him, and he rose and carried the boy to the window to peer out. "Look. You can see it's high in the sky and not reaching the ground." Bae shivered and refused to look._

" _Missus Thatcher said the lightning that burned down the Mercer's house was the gods' judgment upon them." Bae trembled._

" _That woman is daft!" Rumple snorted, stroking Bae's hair. "The gods don't use lightning to punish people for no reason. The Mercers' house was high on a hill, with no trees to draw the lightning from it, and lightning always strikes the highest point. And they had an iron weathervane atop the roof—and that too draws it down—and they had dry thatch, old, because they hadn't changed it or waterproofed it with sheep fat. That's why their house caught on fire, dearie."_

" _But how about our house, Papa?"_

" _Our cottage is small, Bae. Nestled among a lot of great big oak trees, and my thatch I waterproofed myself and had Mark Fielding tie down just two months ago. Lightning won't strike us, Bae. Trust me."_

 _Just then a huge boom echoed as another round of thunder accompanied the lashing rain._

 _Bae jumped and yelped in fear._

 _Rumple rubbed circles on his back. "That's just a lot of noise, son. Nothing to be scared of. You know what my old spinster aunts used to tell me? That thunder was the sky giants breaking wind."_

 _Bae giggled. "Really?"_

 _Rumple tweaked his nose. "Yes. Because they had too many beans for supper."_

" _They must've had a whole pot tonight," his son chuckled, slowly raising his head to peer out the window._

 _He could barely see through the curtain of rain._

 _He leaned his head against his papa's shoulder, feeling inexplicably safe and no longer afraid. His papa was there, and he knew nothing would hurt him so long as that was true. His papa might not be big and strong like John Smithy's dad, the blacksmith, or some knight on a white horse like in the tales, but he loved his papa because despite his crippled foot, Rumple was always there for him. His clever hands could spin the finest thread and he had taught his small son how to card wool and dye it and sew neatly. He also taught Bae how to read and figure and to write with fancy script, something most kids his age couldn't do, but Bae was smart, just like his papa, and he could write, read, and figure like a rich merchant or a noble. He loved his papa's hands, which could also cook delicious soups and stews, soothe him after a fever, embellish his stories with flourishes, and fix up his scraped hands when he fell playing in the woods. They would also hold him after nightmares and he loved how they never hurt him like Milah's had, smacking and pinching him when he annoyed her and shoving him away after she came home from the bar, smelling of smoke and rum. He didn't miss his mama at all now, but he knew if his papa went away he'd miss him the rest of his days._

 _He breathed in Rumple's scent, which was clean and fresh, like the heather and wind with a hint of wool and soap, and as he peered out at the rain he said, "Papa, won't the rain hurt the flowers?"_

" _No, dearie. The flowers will hide their heads for now, but tomorrow morning they'll lift them towards the sun again. Rain will make the flowers grow."_

 _Together they watched the rain falling in silvery sheets and Bae yawned and grew sleepy again._

" _I think it's time for little boys to be in bed," Rumple murmured._

 _Bae shook his head. "Don't wanna go in my bed. I wanna sleep with you."_

 _Rumple acquiesced, for he loved holding his precious son, and so they made their way to Rumple's pallet, stuffed with clean sweet smelling straw scattered with sprigs of lavender and other herbs to keep bugs away, spread with a crisp linen sheet he's sewn himself and sheepskins and his own soft woven blankets. His pillow was stuffed with the soft feathers of ducks and geese Bae and he had gathered down by the lake as well as by bartering with a hunter for the feathers he'd plucked off the birds he'd shot, Rumple had given him a spool of thread and mended his jacket._

 _Father and son curled up in bed, cozy, sleepy and warm with the love they bore each other, a love that would sustain them even when they parted cruelly until they were reunited at last._

"That was an awesome story, Grandpa," Rhee told him. "And look, the rain's stopped!"

"See, what'd I tell you?"

By then they had finished their shortbreads and tea and the sun was now shining, making the raindrops on the pavement sparkle like ethereal things.

Rumple's cell rang and he picked it up. "Bae! We were waiting for you and hoping the rain would stop. Okay, we'll meet you outside in five." He tucked the cell back into his jacket. "Your dad's on his way, Rhee."

She folded the blanket neatly and said, "Then let's go!"

The antique dealer allowed himself to be towed out the door by his excited granddaughter, where they waited on the sidewalk beneath the small red and gold awning for Bae to meet them.

Bae soon appeared, striding along the sidewalk in his usual attire, jeans and a blue T-shirt with his gray hoodie unzipped over it, his dark curly hair somewhat ruffled by the breeze and slightly damp from the rain.

"Hey, Papa! Happy Father's Day!" he greeted Rumple and hugged him.

Rumple hugged his son back, who was now slightly taller than he was, reveling in the fact that he could actually hold his son when they had been separated for so many years. Then he automatically glanced down and noted Bae's sneakers and the bottom of his jeans were wet. "What's this, Bae? Have you been splashing in the puddles again?" he teased, his eyes twinkling.

"Papa!" his son cried. "I'm not five!"

Rhee started laughing. "I know about that, Dad. Grandpa told me the whole story when we waited for the rain to stop."

"Yeah, I bet," her dad grinned, and pulled her into a hug also. "How you doing, swanmay?"

"A-okay," she smirked. "Now let's get some hot dogs." She patted the Beauty and the Beast purse on her hip. "And _I'm_ paying."

"Are you sure you have enough money?" Gold queried.

His granddaughter nodded. "Yup. I've been saving my allowance."

"She makes deals with me for doing extra chores," Bae explained as they walked down the street towards where the Hanson Sabrett cart was.

"Sounds like another kid I knew," Rumple remarked.

They got some large iced teas, two hot dogs apiece, Bae had one with chili and cheese on it and one plain, Rumple got one with mustard and sauerkraut and one with relish and mustard, and Rhee had one with Sabrett onions n' sauce and one with sauerkraut and mustard. They shared a large carton of New York fries, which were fries with skins on them and salt, pepper, and onion powder.

They walked the three blocks to the park and found their usual bench in front of the pond to eat, enjoying their food and laughing at Bae telling amusing stories of some of his art students. They especially enjoyed the doughnuts from Celebrations. Several ducks waddled over to them, quacking, and Rhiannon broke off some of her hotdog bun to feed them.

As they squabbled over the bread, Bae coughed and said, "Now you've done it, Rhee. We're gonna have a whole flock over here in two seconds."

As if his words were prophetic, a large shape flew in and landed on the lake. He turned, and gasped.

"Oh my God! It's a swan!"

The white trumpeter swan glided towards them imperiously, its long neck curving gracefully, its dark eyes fixed upon them.

"Dad . . .give her some bread," Rhee whispered, her voice hushed with awe. It was very rare to see a swan here in the city.

Bae ripped away a piece of his bun and approached the swan cautiously. Though he had loved the birds and had been in love with a magical maiden, he knew that swans were not always friendly and could bite you. He knelt at the edge of the lake and held out the bread to the swan, his palm flat.

He was going to toss it into the water, but the ducks were in the lake too and would fight with the swan for it.

He remained motionless for several long moments, recalling another day long ago, when Rhee was four, and he had fed the swans with her on Loch Eala.

In the blink of an eye, he was back in Scotland, on a morning of mist and magical enchantment, a week after losing his beloved Sorcha to the Edwardian witch hunters, and he could recall it as if it were only yesterday . . . .

 _Scotland, Loch Eala_

 _5 years previous:_

 _Rhiannon had always been an intrepid baby, with the wildness of her Scots ancestry coupled with her mother's free spirit and her papa's gentle spirit and mischief. She was always wandering somewhere, looking at flowers, examining a spiderweb wet with dew or a frog hopping, or finding a litter of kittens in the hayloft and watching them nurse with keen interest._

 _After losing Sorcha, Bae had been so distraught and upset that he hadn't paid too much attention to his daughter after the funeral, and when he returned to the castle, he had brooded upon his aching loss and hadn't watched Rhee the way he normally would have._

 _Which was why the child had wandered off and a frantic Bae went insane trying to find her that morning, when he had come down for breakfast and found she was not eating her porridge and fruit, in fact no one knew where she was. He had dashed outside, which was still wet from the morning dew and mist rising from the loch, the sky a kaleidoscope of colors ranging from heather purple and magenta to a reddish golden color. It was a beautiful sight, but Bae couldn't appreciate it when he was terrified his daughter was missing._

" _Rhee! Rhiannon!" he yelled, breaking the serene silence._

 _He found the child playing in the grass several yards from the loch, her small hands stroking a large swan that had landed beside her. "Rhiannon! Oh thank you, God!" he had yelled, startling the swan, who took flight._

 _His child was_ _ **not**_ _happy to see him. "Daddy! You scared Mama away!" she cried as he swooped down on her and clutched her to his chest. "You made Mama go away!"_

 _Her words struck him like a sucker punch to the gut, and he felt all the air leave his lungs for a brief instant. The next instant he could breathe again, though his breath came raggedly as he said, "Rhee, that wasn't Mama. And I've been going crazy looking for you. Who said you could come out here all by yourself? You could have drowned or gotten lost!" he scolded. "You scared me half to death, dammit!"_

 _At his tone, which was rough with fear and anger, his daughter began to cry. "M'sorry! I just . . .just wanted to see . . .Mama . . .!" she bawled._

" _Oh God!" he groaned. "Rhee, baby, that wasn't your mama, that was just a swan. Remember what we talked about? Mama can't come and see you anymore because she's in heaven now . . ." The pain in his heart was crushing him and he feared he would die of the agony._

 _He rocked his little girl back and forth, and Rhee cried, "But I need her here, Daddy! Make her come back!"_

" _I know . . .I know . . .but I can't . . ." he was crying silently. "I miss her too but she has to go and be an angel now . . ."_

 _His shoulders shook and he suddenly began to sob raggedly, missing the beautiful woman who had brought love and laughter and magic back into his life, the swanmay who had chosen him, a lonely artist without a family, to be her beloved. Burying his face in his small daughter's floofy hair, he wept for what had been and what would never be again._

 _He didn't know if he would ever get over this horrible loss._

" _Daddy . . .Daddy . . .don't cry," Rhee whispered in his ear. "Mama always said that if I couldn't find her I could tell a swan and it could bring her a message."_

 _Bae continued crying for a few more moments before her words sunk in and he stopped and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "What do you mean, a message?"_

" _Mama said so. Give a swan the message and it would tell her. And we need to find a swan."_

 _Bae managed to coax a smile for his little girl. "Um . . .okay. We'll do that," he agreed, playing along._

 _There were always swans swimming on the loch, it was a haven for the great birds and always had been._

 _He stood up and with his daughter in his arms, approached the edge of the loch._

 _Two of the big birds were swimming a few yards out._

 _He reached into a pocket and found a few shortbreads he'd stuck into his jacket the day before. He crumbled one and tossed it out on the lake._

 _The offering floated upon the water, until a swan noticed and swam towards it. Its head dipped and it ate the crumbs greedily._

 _Rhee clapped her hands and Bae threw more crumbs, trying to coax the bird closer._

 _The swan swam almost to the shore, following the trail of crumbs, and Bae knelt and put Rhiannon down beside him. "Now tell her your message," he urged._

 _The child gazed at the majestic bird, totally unafraid, and said softly, "I need you to tell my mama, Sorcha Lir Gold, that me and daddy miss her lots and when she's done helping Jesus as an angel she needs to come home."_

 _Bae handed her a piece of shortbread and the swan took it from her hand._

 _Abruptly, it beat its wings and flew away._

" _It's gone to tell her, Daddy," his child said with utter certainty._

 _Bae didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The death of his wife had shaken him badly and he wasn't even sure if he believed in any God any longer._

 _They remained on the loch shore for several more minutes, and suddenly it began to rain, one of the mild showers that often washed over the Highlands in the spring time. The rain was misty and warm, and Rhee caught drops on her tongue._

 _Bae smiled, unwilling to leave for a moment, recalling a conversation he'd had with Sorcha before his daughter was born. They had been caught in a rain shower just like this and when he would have urged her to go back inside, his wife had laughed and said, "What's wrong, are ye afraid of a wee shower, Bae? Do ye no' ken that the rain is the tears of Angus Og, shed for all mankind at the sorrow he feels at the endless anger and wars man makes upon each other? The rain cleanses and renews the land, mo chridhe, and a wee fall of rain shall no' hurt me now."_

" _I don't mind the rain, dearest," he had admitted. "In fact I used to splash in puddles as a kid and drive my dad crazy."_

" _Then, perhaps, love, ye need to remember how to dance in the rain again." Then she had taken his hands and they had skipped a Highland reel among the puddles._

 _As he gazed out at the misty rain falling on the loch, Bae recalled her words, and swallowed hard, thinking, Aye Sorcha, my heart, a little fall of rain will hardly hurt you now._

 _His eyes glistening with tears, he counted raindrops, until suddenly with a thunder of wings, the swan returned to land before them, something clutched in his beak._

 _It laid the necklace at Rhiannon's feet._

" _Look, Daddy!" she cried, and picked up the necklace. "It's from Mama!"_

" _Rhee, that's crazy," Bae began, but then he saw the necklace and knew it like he knew his own name._

 _It was Sorcha's locket, one she had worn always, had been wearing that day but which had been missing since. And now it was here, given to her daughter._

 _He helped Rhiannon put it on._

 _In his head he seemed to hear his wife's voice._

 _Swans mate for life, Bae. And true love never dies. It just gets reborn._

" _Thanks," he told the swan, who bobbed its head regally and swam off._

 _Then he went and opened his mouth and caught several raindrops on his tongue._

 _They tasted of regret and sweet satisfaction and oddly enough, hope._

In another instant he was back, and feeling the swan's beak gently nibbling his hand as it ate the hot dog bun in Central Park in Manhattan, a world away from Scotland.

 _I love you, Sorcha._

"Dad, you did it," Rhiannon exclaimed, and then she took a piece of the bun and went and offered it to the swan.

The swan deigned to notice her and took her bread also.

 _I love you, Mama._

Then it turned to look at Rumple, who rose and also offered his own bit of bun.

The swan took it gravely, then turned, swam away, and suddenly reared up, wings outspread and silvery sparkles danced in the air as the swan suddenly shimmered and became a lovely woman in a green gown with dark hair who smiled at them and blew them a kiss.

 _Happy Father's Day!_

The next instant the mirage—if such it had been—had faded and the swan was a swan once again.

"Papa? Was that—?" Bae began.

"It was, son. Your wife came to say hello," Mr. Gold replied, smiling.

He put his arms around his son and his granddaughter, thinking that miracles still occurred once in awhile, even here in New York, if you believed.

Then he glanced down and realized that his Gucci loafers and the bottoms of his Armani trousers were now soaking wet, from the swan splashing them.

He shrugged.

 _Ah well, a little fall of rain never hurt anyone. And rain will make the flowers grow._

 **A/N: I meant to finish this yesterday, as that was my mom's birthday, but work and Father's Day prevented me, so here it is now! Hope you all enjoy it!**


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